56. You Sexy Thing

56

YOU SEXY THING

DAISY

ABOUT FIVE MONTHS LATER ― June 10th, 1976

A wide smile is plastered on my face as I walk through the large art gallery, taking in everything around me with eager eyes. Beautiful paintings, sculptures, and photographs fill the large space, along with ceramic works and graphic designs.

It's the debut show for first-year students of the fine arts program, and that includes me. Every student has their own style, and together they make for an awesome display of creative minds.

My piece was already sold at the start of the night. There were a few very eager buyers who wanted it, which resulted in an unconventional bidding war.

My sculpture is similar to the piece I created to get accepted into the art academy and to catch Lester's attention, but with applied knowledge and skills that I've learned in the past year.

I make my way back through the gallery to look at it one last time before it gets rehomed with its new owner at the end of the night.

Made of clay is a stunning woman with her eyes staring up at the sky. Out of her parted lips grows a vine of ivy that curls all around her throat, moving lower as it curves around her waist and hips, all the way to her ankles. Her wrists are tied behind her back with the same ivy, high enough to reveal a slight peek of her bare butt. Long hair flows over parts of her shoulders and breasts, and she is slit open from her collarbone to her lower stomach, revealing a multitude of flowers growing from inside of it, including arcadias, diphylleias, hyacinths, dahlias, gardenias, and anemones. All flowers Lester called me at one time.

I love that I put a piece of him―of us ―into every piece I create.

Lester officially quit his job at the university months ago, because it no longer felt like his place after everything that went down. He was replaced by another sculping professor, and while he's a really good artist and teacher, he's nowhere near as good as Lester.

He's been solely focused on his art instead and he's doing amazing. Every piece he makes is a masterpiece, and I'm not just saying that because I look at him through rose-tinted glasses. It's just that he is that good, and that's something every human being can recognize just by looking at his pieces.

The numbers in his bank account reflect it, too, and he has more money coming in than he knows what to do with. He takes me on trips every school vacation and to music festivals all over the country. Sometimes he just gets me tickets to go with Uncle Abe, because even now that I have a partner to do all those things with, I'll never forget the person who has always fed my love for rock music.

I'm at the top of my class, and Lester is a big reason for that. He gives me private lessons a few times a week and we spend a lot of time in the studio working on our own artworks while keeping each other company.

As for my obsessive compulsions regarding sex, I've never gone back to therapy after Dr. Beaumont died. I have Lester now, and that's enough. He's the only one who will ever be able to truly understand me anyway. He knows what I need.

By the time the night ends, I get showered in praise from my parents and uncles, who, of course, all came over for my debut show. They're so proud of me, and I have to admit that I'm proud of myself too.

After we part ways, Lester drives us back to our house. I officially moved in with him a little after we came back from Alabama and after Dad had a talk with him. He's still not the greatest fan, but he's trying his best to come around.

"Fucking hell," I groan as soon as we step through the front door, dropping my purse on the little table next to us. "I did too much talking tonight. My tongue literally hurts."

I turn around to face him, stretching my arms above my head. That movement makes my terracotta-colored dress bunch up at the hips, and his hungry gaze is instant in response.

"You?" he counters, lifting an eyebrow as he follows me further inside. "I didn't think it was possible for you to talk too much."

I roll my eyes. "When it's with you, never. Other people? I was over my limit hours ago."

"So what's to do about that, little nymph?" He kicks his leather shoes off. "Want me to silence that pretty mouth of yours?"

He stops right in front of me, his muscled built and tall frame crowding over me as I look up at him through my eyelashes. "You always know best, Professor."

Rubbing his thumb over my lower lip, he pushes it into my mouth and I suck it eagerly. A feral growl escapes him, and before I know it, I'm thrown over his shoulder and taken to the Red Room. He smacks my ass on the way there and I let out a loud squeak followed by giggles.

"I've got a present for you, little nymph," he says as he puts me down on the floor. "For all your hard work the past year. I am so proud of you."

Lasers of love practically shoot out of my eyes as he praises me, and despite him doing that every moment he gets the chance, I'll never get enough of it. Our relationship dynamic may have changed now that we're together, but I'll always hold him in the highest regard as an artist. I'll always see him as the god of sculpture.

"Turn around," he orders, and I eagerly comply. "Take off your dress. Panties, too."

I unzip the side zipper and let it fall off me in a heap on the floor. Stepping out, I slide it to the side with my foot. I leave my open-toed heels on, because I know Lester likes them.

Something soft is placed over my eyes―a blindfold. He ties it on the back of my head until my entire vision is black. I'm led to a different location in the room and he cups a hand under the back of my knee to lift it up. I excitedly go along with everything he does, until both knees are propped up onto something high and cold.

I think it's his leather bench.

That thought is confirmed when my arms are placed beside me in the same manner and get secured with cuffs, as do my ankles. My tits are flattened on the cool surface, my nipples hardened peaks. "Oh, fuck yes," I squeak, my stomach filling with excitement.

I no longer panic when I'm restrained. After the night Rosemary tied me up, it took me some time to get back to my old self. Not being able to move would cause me to hyperventilate, because the loss of control was simply too much.

I now know exactly how Lester has felt for all his life―why he can't handle being tied up or lose control at all.

But I wanted to get back to myself so bad. So little by little, Lester helped me overcome the fear. And now I'm back to the kinky slut who likes the feeling of ropes digging into her flesh and having her guts rearranged in the same beat.

"What's that?" Lester teases. "Did I just hear you talking?"

Soft fingers trail over my cheek before the blindfold is slipped off. I gasp when I meet eyes with a frightening vision, something unfamiliar.

"Holy shit," I whimper, and a broad smile curves my lips. "A new mask."

Made of shiny gold, the mask splits in the middle, right though the realistic-looking human nose. The sides of the golden pieces are also cracked, divided into at least eight asymmetrical pieces, like shattered fragments of glass.

Between the cracks of gold, a black surface is revealed with hundreds of small golden veins swirling in odd angles, like tiny snakes. Lester's beautiful dark brown pools peek at me from out of the hollow eyeholes, and there's a wide hole where his mouth should be, with some loose veins crawling out of it.

"It's almost June 19 th ," he says darkly. "My twelfth kill."

"It's incredible." I shake my head, unable to keep my eyes off it as I stare full of admiration. "I don't even have the words, really. It's definitely in my top three masks ever."

A dark chuckle filters through the scary mask. "Thank you, little nymph. I thought we'd have some fun with it before my killing date."

"Best present ever." I let out a giggle when he softly taps me on the cheek and stands up. My neck bends at an uncomfortable angle, but it doesn't stop me from looking up at the striking demon above me.

Unbuckling his black slacks, he reveals his monstrously large cock to me, gripping it in his hand. I'm nearly salivating as I watch the intimidating veins throb and he doesn't waste any time before he shoves it into my mouth. His hips slam forward and he instantly touches the back of my throat, making me gag.

I stick out my tongue as I try to relax to take him as deeply as I'm able, letting him use me for his pleasure. My clit throbs desperately, warmth building between my legs as a trail of wetness leaks down my thigh.

Humming around his cock, I wallow in the words of praise that filter through the mask. "You filthy fucking girl," he grunts as he keeps thrusting his hips forward. "You're taking me so well. So deep…"

I instinctively pull at my restraints as he goes harder and a sinister laugh is his only reply.

Fuck me sideways . I'm going to come if he does that again.

The thrill of this, of him and his mask, and the feeling of being helpless with such a terrifying killer in the room―it's my own personal Arcadia. Knowing that he's scary to everyone else, but to me he's the kindest, most amazing and supportive man I've ever known. I feel so incredibly safe with him.

He pulls out after a while and another dark laugh echoes through the room when he hears my protest. "Why are you stopping?" I whine. "I wanted to taste you. I wanted your cum."

"Not yet, angel. I have other plans for you first." He walks out of view but returns quickly with something in his hand.

A shiny black ball gag.

Holding it up by the strap, he dangles it in front of my eyes. "I told you I was going to silence your pretty mouth."

"I fucking love you." I bite my lip before I invitingly open my mouth.

"I love you, too, my filthy girl." He puts the ball into my mouth and closes the straps on the back of my head. "Now that your mouth is filled, and you're unable to move, you can't call your safe word. If you need me to stop, snap your fingers with your right hand. I'll keep an eye out for it, okay?"

" Hm-phhh ." I nod my head compliantly, mumbling around the gag as drool leaks out of the corners of my mouth.

He chuckles, squeezing my cheek. "Alright, then."

I'm nearly vibrating with anticipation as he disappears out of sight behind me, and nothing happens for what seems like the longest time. But I know that it only must have been minutes. I think he's just choosing something to play with from his wall of toys.

It isn't until something hard smacks onto my ass that the anticipation disappears and is replaced with delicious pain. I scream around the gag, the sting shooting through my every limb. Warmth spreads through my veins and tears spill from my eyes.

It feels like a wooden paddle, similar to one we've used before.

"Fuck, angel," he growls. "You're dripping so much. You're creating a puddle right beneath you, and I haven't even touched you yet."

Another smack quickly follows, and we repeat the delectable dance again and again―him dishing out the pain and me taking it wholeheartedly. My pussy contracts with every burst of pain and I'm so desperate for release that I wish I could just spit out this damn gag and beg him to fuck me.

He counts to ten, and when the last number leaves his mouth, along with the painful spank with the paddle, I hear it clatter to the ground as he throws it away from us.

His mouth is on me before I get the chance to take in a breath. Audible slurps are a loud melody in this dark and depraved room as he eats my pussy like a man starved, all the while his hands smooth over the skin on my ass that he hurt just moments before.

I moan around the ball, my eyes closing from the pleasure. His mouth moves from my pussy to my asshole, and he spreads it apart as he tongues it with nefarious need.

"You taste so good," he hums, the sound vibrating against my most sensitive nerves. His fingers find my clit, and he rubs it at the same time he fucks my ass with his tongue. "Come for me, angel. Let me drink from you."

He doesn't have to tell me twice. I've been dangling on the edge for what seems like forever, only keeping it in because I was waiting for his permission. I release with everything I've got, my pussy contracting as liquid fire spreads from my belly all the way to my cunt. His tongue twirls around my clit before his mouth sucks every single drop of cum out of me.

"That's it," he mumbles, and the smacking and slurping sounds drag out my orgasm until I'm literally crying. Legs shaking, I scream out as loud as I'm able with my mouth filled up, and he keeps going for too long, only to add a little extra torture into the mix.

He's a fucking sadist through and through, even when he makes me feel good.

I still can't see him, but the sound of him licking my cum off his lips is unmistakable. "I'm going to fill you up now, you dirty whore. So desperate for my cock, aren't you?"

" Hmm-phhh, " I mumble around the ball, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. I squeeze them shut when something fills my pussy all the way, but it's a different feeling than his cock.

Noting my confusion, he says, "It's a dildo, angel. Almost as big as my own cock. I am going to stretch you out so wide, make you feel so good, you'll be worshipping me at my feet all week."

Foolish man. I already worship him with every breath I take and he damn well knows it.

He fucks me with the dildo, pushing it all the way in, then back out, until he finds a rhythm that has me begging unintelligible words around the gag.

"You want my cock now?" he teases, the head of it rubbing against my clit.

All I can do is nod my head frantically and he gives me what I need. I scream as he centers the tip of his cock right next to the dildo, slowly pushing it inside. The stretch is too much, and I'm seriously contemplating snapping my fingers to call my safe word.

I don't, though. Because he takes his time, making sure that I'm comfortable and enjoying myself. This makes me relax more and he pushes deeper inside with every slow thrust of his hips.

"Are you okay, angel?" he asks. "Does that feel good?"

Fuck me between the tits, it does. It feels fucking incredible .

I moan, nodding my head as hard as I can. A scream vibrates around the ball gag as he settles himself inside even deeper.

"Christ," he curses. "I'm almost in. Goddamn it, the sight is fucking blinding. You're fitting two cocks inside of your tight little cunt at once, little nymph. Like a depraved little cock whore."

Oh, fuck. I'll never get enough of him degrading me like this. It gets me so fucking hot. He starts moving harder now, deeper. Pulling both cocks out to the tip, then slamming back inside.

I'm losing my mind from how good it feels, and he must feel the same way, if his groans of pleasure are any indication. He finds a rough, delicious rhythm as he stretches me at my full capacity. I come before I can help it and he smacks my ass for it as punishment, because he didn't give me permission.

He changes course as retaliation, fucking me hard with both cocks while he uses his free hand to rub my clit, making me come instantly after. I'm crying from the overwhelming pleasure, but he just laughs at my pain.

"I'm going to make you come so many times you won't remember your own name when we're done, angel. I'm not stopping for anything. We both know your tears only spur me on."

I want to scream profanities at him, but I can't. All I can do is take it.

He moves his fingers from my clit to my asshole and he spits on it before he pushes his thumb inside. That makes me come again, and I'm fucking losing it. I'm floating around in space or whatever the fuck.

" Fuuuuck , little nymph," he growls as I come yet again. And telling from his rugged thrusts, he's on his way to climax as well. "You're taking these cocks too fucking well. Such a filthy little whore."

With three last, shocking thrusts, he releases inside of me with a loud grunt. My head falls forward as my entire body is spent, and I can no longer move one single limb. He drained every shred of energy from my being, and I'm so deliciously sore and satisfied. The ache and aftermath of a night like this makes me feel so alive, and the fact that I have found such a sinful man―one who is into the same kinds of perverted things as me―is more than I ever thought was possible.

Now the last part of the night starts and he takes care of me in different ways. Lester is the one who taught me about the importance of aftercare, and it's quickly become one of my favorite things in the world.

He unlocks the restraints and gets rid of the ball gag before he picks me up. "You did so well, angel."

I hum in satisfaction, burying my face in the crook of his neck as I wrap my arms around him. The last thing he says before he carries me upstairs is, "I love you, my Arcadia."